Velwrith slithered onto a stool at the bar he had visited the night before, finding his friends in another corner.

 Valasta and Betsy were sat on a stool reading a novel. Saeria was sharpening her ax.  A bard sang while playing the harp, nearby. He hoped they wouldn't see him for a while. His hopes were granted for nearly an hour before Valasta suddenly appeared at the counter, leaving Betsy to assist with the bard’s performance.

"I was wondering if you were coming tonight. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. It can't be easy being the Lightbringer."

"This whole Lightbringer thing isn't so bad. It's all the rest that comes with it. "

"Now, what's that supposed to mean?" Valasta held up the universal sign for two as the bartender looked in their direction.

"Think I would get all dressed up just for you?"

Valasta spent a moment polishing a silver skull-shaped stud on his cuff before responding. "Well, I do hold fashion and cleanliness to the highest esteem; I thought you'd simply taken after my likeness."

Velwrith chuckled a little; it felt hollow but came utterly naturally. "So you're just deluded then?"

Valasta grinned like a child. "Completely, but now friend, the drinks have arrived. So tell me in earnest what's wrong, it's only the two of us. I left Betsy behind and all that."

The prince looked at the mage for a very long time, completely silent. "It was a woman… we are … I mean we were together… but I left, duty called me to slay a monster. She didn't want me to go, but I did…."

"And now, after some time, you've returned, and you just expected everything to go back to the way it was because you apologized?"

Velwrith felt his gaze could have put a hole in the counter, and his guts were turning to water. "Yes" was all he could manage.

Valasta took a long drink and scowled towards the ceiling. "I had a flame once; his name was Kato Wayne. We were both apprentices to his uncle for our fundamental years. When he turned forty, he left the Knot to study his own family's secret arts for a few years. When he returned, he was just... different, crueler, and more destructive… I just couldn't stand it." Stopping to collect himself, he slipped a purple sleeve across bleary eyes. "Now I've gone and spilled my guts, so what's your story then?"

When the prince's mouth opened, his guts poured out "Quel'Nina; her name was Quel'Nina. She's a historian and artificer. So are her mother and grandmother. Her father was a knight in my father's guard. Under some curse or madness, he murdered my father.

The wizard opened his mouth to offer sympathies, but Velwrith was long past the need for them. He went on talking. "I can't quite explain how it happened, but some years after, we got close. We stayed close for a long time. I loved her, and she means the world to me. But I left her. She begged me not to go, but I didn't listen. I'm just so confused about what to do." When he finished, he noticed he was crying without knowing when it had begun.

Valasta put a hand on Velwrith's shoulder, the grip gentle and firm "You get back up, and you move forwards. For me, that was leaving The Dead Lands and joining the crew of a sailing ship. Though perhaps that same methodology would prove troublesome for you. I would personally suggest you start with those Lightbringers trifles of yours."

Velwrith nodded. "The trials, yes… the day after tomorrow I am to take the first, a trial of hot water. Would you and Betsy attend as my guests? I know if I fail, you might be thrown out, but if I succeed, I would have you both with me."

Valasta's face went through many expressions. "Yes, but I do not wish to watch anyone suffer… Of course, we will hope for your success, but I have never heard of someone passing a hand through boiling water failing to suffer horribly." 

The mage took a deep breath and made a downward motion with both hands. "Yes, we will be honored to join you as guests, Velwrith."

Velwrith nodded, finishing his drink. "Should we intervene with them then? It looks as Saeria might be making a fuss."

"Perhaps, but I do think I am more concerned with whatever illusion Betsy is conjuring. The last time a bard had her conjure something, the inn caught fire."

They indicated their group to the barkeeper and quickly diverted the impending disaster.

#

Early the following morning, Velwrith watched the sun peeking over the mountains; it was finally the day of the trial. He drowned the stone in his gut with another bottle of wine before getting dressed. Word of the trial had spread quickly, and everyone within a sixty-mile radius was in the city.

He showered using a crystalline decanter that could pour considerable amounts of warm water when the time came. Next, he let the servants dress him in a traditional formal suit; he needed help with the endless buttons and pins. Third, his hair was combed straight, perfumed, and bound in a tail behind him. The last step was to attach the large silver circlet, the prince's circlet by tradition, to his hairline. He looked and felt ridiculous in the tight silks, preferring his loose blouse and leather jerkin.

"It is time, my child," his mother's voice called from below in the entry hall of the tower. "If you are not yet prepared, we have made arrangements to delay for at most an hour. Valtra is already giving a speech."

He stepped from his private chamber onto the interior balcony. "I am ready, mother. But I am also somewhat shocked. Why are you here, not conducting the ceremonies yourself." 

Reaching the stairs gliding along the round walls, he smoothly descended without ruffling his clothes.

The regal woman broke, swells of tears bursting from both eyes; her voice was a single pained sob. "I needed to see you. I needed to see you now, whole, like this. In case I never get to see you like this again."

At the bottom of the stairs, Velwrith threw open his arms and hugged her. "Mother, you have nothing to fear; I AM the Lightbringer. I will pass this trial, and you're going to see me whole again tonight. I've mastered the Lightbringer's presence. It will protect me from all harm, you'll see."

She laughed, blowing an incredible amount of mucus down the back of his coat. "Of course, you will; here I am getting all worked up over nothing... "

He hugged her harder. "Yes, mother, you are. I will be fine, I promise." 

She hugged him back, leaving more dark splotches down the front of his jacket.

 Then, reeling, she noticed the mess. Effortlessly regaining her poise instantly, she looked him in the face and said. "Well, you change that coat, and I'll clean myself up a bit. We've got a big day ahead of us after all."

"Yes, mother." He responded, stripping off the jacket in one motion before bounding up the stairs again. As he ascended, he made sure to hide the uncertainty on his face.